A Secret Protector Year Two
by docmuse
Summary: Isla Black is waiting. The infamous Harry Potter, the one she's been ordered to protect, comes to Hogwarts next year, but her second year is anything but boring. There's so much prejudice at Hogwarts, even in her seemingly innocent Muggleborn friend and the brother of some of her friends from another house. Can she make it through her second year at Hogwarts? SEQUEL ALERT!
1. Chapter 1

"I WANT TO GO THIS YEAR! I'VE WAITED LONG ENOUGH!" Draco screamed, wand floundering about as if looking for someone to jinx. He had already jinxed me once so that my hair turned a pretty turquoise color. I actually quite liked it and planned to not undo it.

"You still aren't old enough, sweetie." Mother tried to calm him down, patting his shoulders and pushing down his wand hand.

"She's old enough!" He pointed at me. I shrugged.

"She's older than you. Next year you'll go."

He pouted. Thought for a while. "I want a wand holder like she has!" He pointed at the black leather holster attached to my belt with a silver clip, moving onto his next want.

Mother looked relieved. "We'll go to Diagon Alley as soon as she leaves to get you one." She smiled at me, and then waved her hand, dismissing me. There was a black broom leaning against one column in the vestibule of Malfoy Mansion. I had learned how to fly in the summer. There hadn't been much else to do, besides listen to Draco whine about what he hadn't gotten for his birthday. I mounted the broom awkwardly and zoomed off.

King's Cross was crowded, and I could barely find the small house elf standing beside my already transported bags. I hoisted them onto a baggage cart and thanked the house elf. It blushed and then Disapparated away with a loud crack.

The enchanted wall separating the Muggle side of King's Cross and the magical Platform 9 ¾ was no trouble for me. I ran toward it, disappearing. Smoke filled 9 ¾, and I could barely see, but someone yelling my name caught my eye-or should I say ear? "Titiana! Titiana!" It was one of the Weasley twins. He was wearing a red wool sweater with a golden G on it, so I guessed it was George.

"Hello," I said, still taking in the general excitement of the platform.

"Had a nice summer?" Fred asked.

"Er...yes…no." I grasped for an explanation.

"Too bad," George sympathized before I could say anymore. "Your foster brother being a brat again?"

I nodded. "And next year I'll have to deal with him _all year long_. Gah!" I thought about what I had said. Harry Potter would be old enough to come to Hogwarts, and if his lineage was any indication, he would definitely be accepted. My protecting duties would begin. I couldn't let anyone know, because that would mean telling them the whole story, and that would mean they would know I was the daughter of a convict and prisoner of Azkaban. I fingered my tooth necklace, a present from my dad last Christmas.

"I had forgotten about that." Fred looked thoughtful. "And you're in the same house. That'll be a ghastly experience."

"But we'll find a way to deal with him," George cut in, waggling his eyebrows. I laughed, but abruptly stopped when another red-headed presence loomed over me.

"Who's this?" one of the Weasley brothers asked.

My nervous instincts kicked in. "I could ask the same of you," I said haughtily. Too many years in the Malfoy household had made me haughty and "better-than-you" in the face of humiliation.

"Percy Weasley," he said stiffly. "And you, as I have already asked?"

"Titiana-Titiana Malfoy." I said, stuttering.

"Hmmm…." Percy sized me up, and then shook his head as if he had a bad headache. "Fred, George, are you going to get on the train?" He looked back at me and sniffed.

Both George and Fred looked rather deflated, as if someone had crashed their party. "First one to go," George mouthed to me.

Fred nodded, and mouthed, "You haven't seen the worst of it." I tried to contain my laughter, but broke out into a fit of it.

Harvest walked up to me and thrust her hip out pettily. "Really, Titiana, I thought you had learned last year. Houses don't mix. At least that Weasley boy knows that." She had grown taller in the summer, and looked more than her age of twelve. She had grown her hair out and wore it in a puffy bun, only a few strands of hair escaping. Her clothes were mostly a bright green, shocking your eyes. "Whatever," she continued. "Let's just get on the train."


	2. Chapter 2

As I had expected, the train ride was a nasty experience, half of it spent in silence, a quarter with Harvest chiding me for mixing with "those Gryffindors," and the last quarter in mostly silence, only filled by Harvest's chewing of chocolate frogs. It was obvious that she had thought on my choice of pet over the summer and decided it was a low, low choice. Funny, I never thought you could chew haughtily before.

But Meatloaf, my pet chocolate frog, was doing well. Though Draco had accidently-probably-on-purpose tried to eat him a few times, I had rescued Meatloaf from that fate of doom. The makers of chocolate frogs had most likely never thought of the possibility of having a chocolate frog as a pet. Therefore, I had almost nothing to go on as for the general intelligence of chocolate frogs, and had spent most of my summer figuring this out. On a scale of one to ten, one being a plant and ten being a genius, Meatloaf was about at…oh; let's say three and a half. Meatloaf was not the smartest chocolate frog in the box. But it was unique, and he had entertained me over the summer.

There was little I could do about Harvest's opinions of me in general. She disapproved of my general choices, especially my newly turquoise hair. I caught her looking disdainfully at me while I was reading The Quibbler many times, but didn't say anything. She would deny it if I accused her of anything, and I didn't need anything else for Harvest to hang over me all year long.

After about half the train ride had passed, I excused myself from Harvest and I's compartment under the false story of needing a bathroom break. To tell the truth, I was tired of Harvest's haughty discharges every five minutes, and needed some alternate company.

I had made friends with a Ravenclaw girl named Astraea Eloise Bones near the end of my first year, and knew little about her. She lived with her aunt, Amelia Bones, a prestigious member of the wizarding court, the Wizengamot. She had been raised in a traditional and old-fashioned home. But Hogwarts was no wake-up call, as she had told me. Her father was dead, killed by Death Eaters when she was young, and her mom was paralyzed from the neck down, saved by a dangerous experimental spell.

But even though Astraea was under piteous circumstances, I was not a pity friend. She was extremely intelligent, in Ravenclaw through no coincidence. She was far more intelligent than Harvest, and had shown grit in standing up to my Slytherin friend.

I found Astraea sitting alone in a compartment, reading a large book titled: Combatting Dark Magic: A Collection of Essays, looking rather thick on subject matter. I had to distract her from her book by nearly yelling her name. She looked up, bewildered. "Oh! Titiana!"

She shut the book, using her sandwich as a bookmark. Relish squelched onto the pages. "Hello."

"Nice summer?" I asked, peering over her shoulder at the worn cover of her book.

"Yes! Madam Amelia let me borrow it from her private library. It's quite old…." she opened the book to her marked page to a squished sandwich.

"Oh…." she picked the sandwich up, attempting to dust relish off the page, but only smearing it further.

"What is that?" I asked, attempting to pick at the sandwich.

Astraea pulled it away. "Tuna." She said defensively. "And relish."

"Yuch!"

"It's not gross."

And so it went on for the rest of the train ride. Possibly the longest bathroom break ever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry I haven't been posting very often, I've just been super busy. But anyways…a very short Chapter Three.**

I stuffed a spoonful of pudding into my mouth. "A Hovering Charm does _not _make objects fly, it makes them hover! There is a difference!"

"Flying, hovering, same thing. Get your facts straight. If you ever hope to pass Charms with even a Poor, you need to know that. I intend to become a worker at the Improper Use of Magic Office at the Ministry, and you'll see then, everyone will see, that I'm completely right." Another Slytherin girl sat across the table from me, arguing something completely wrong.

"Yeah, sure, and then _everyone _will know your name-which, by the way, I can't remember. Remind me?" I set down my spoon on the rim of my bowl and attempted to look interested in a snooty way, imitating Harvest and Mother combined

"Beatrix," the girl said, looking insulted.

"Yes, of course." I took another bite of pudding, then pushed my porcelain bowl away. It had soured in my mouth at a sudden thought. I was beginning to sound like Harvest. I was even trying to imitate her. What was wrong with me? "I-I have to go. Headache."

Beatrix didn't look worried, and didn't say anything as I walked away, heels clicking on the marble floors.

The Slytherin common room was cold. And damp. I imagined mildew creeping up the sides of my armchair and onto me. Bad thought. I wondered if the Gryffindor common room was any warmer, any more comforting as I fingered the worn tooth necklace at my throat. Sirius Black-since I still didn't know what to call him-didn't know that I was in Slytherin. Would he still be proud of me if he did know? Probably not….I was a horrible coward. Coward, coward. The dirty word echoed around the recesses of my mind, filling it with horrible thoughts.

If-when he got out of Askaban-he would disown me. And I would be just Isla, and I would throw away that name for my false name, Titiana. It was only when the thought was finished that I realized the implications of it. _When _he got out of Askaban. Like I knew he would, definitively.

I concentrated harder on him, the few visions of him I had recognized during my venture into the past with a potion last year. 'Come on, you can do better than that!' Then: 'I killed Sirius Black, I killed Sirius Black!'

No. I was delirious. It couldn't be, because he wouldn't ever die. He couldn't be dead…could he? No. He couldn't be. He wouldn't have given up, but then, what did I know about him, my not-murderer father.

Not-murderer. I needed to come up with a better name for it, because someday I was going to want it. Unmurderer. Inmurderer. Some part of me had concluded from the start that these were delirious ravings. That my visions into the future were just the chocolate pudding talking, but another part knew that it was true. Horribly and irrevocably true. And when I met Father-Dad-Poppa-Sirius Black, I'd have to tell him them. And that I was in Slytherin. And that wouldn't be the first thing I'd say to him, no, that would be a joyful reunion, but he would ask. And I'd have to say.

The last thing I remembered before drifting off is wondering if you could switch houses.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I haven't posted in a really long time, and that makes me feel really bad. I'm SO sorry for the wait, but I'd like to thank Zenith for this chapter. It was originally written from Astraea's point of view by Zenith (Astraea's creator), but in this version it's from Isla's perspective.**

"An ornate roof atop, a ruby red room inlay with a thick velvet carpet, in its grandeur, gleaming pillars of ivory hold firm this mighty structure." The eagle doorknocker intoned. It was obviously a snob.

"Can't you just let me in? I want to see Astraea!" I said grumpily.

"Anything you can tell her you can tell me," the eagle doorknocker said. "She's probably studying, like a good student and Ravenclaw. I'll forward your message to her."

"It's private. Very private," I said, looking aside.

"Well, you can't see her. Not unless you answer the riddle." The doorknocker turned it's beak up at me. "No siree, you cannot come in unless you answer the riddle."

"Fine. I'll answer the riddle." I racked my brain for answers, and then: "McHunting Palace!" It was the ancestral home of a strange organization that claimed to be the descendants of King Arthur. It did, in fact, match the description.

"NOOOOOOO!" The eagle screeched. "Wrong answer!" And, being a Ravenclaw like he was, he added: "I take unduly pleasure in refusing your entry into MY common room."

"It works, even if it's not the right answer. You've learned something new," I said.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" And with that, a silvery-white haired head popped out of the common room door.

"What's all that commotion? I'm studying, as are several others, Samhain, couldn't you quiet down-oh, Isla, how nice to see you!" Astraea stepped out of the common room.

The doorknocker sniffed, then gave a perfunctory nod. "She gave the wrong answer to the riddle." He repeated the riddle that he had given me earlier, and she nodded.

"Oh, yes, a mouth! Very clever. But what did she answer?" Astraea looked confused for a moment, then said "Oh! McHunting Palace! We've been learning about it in History of Magic. It makes sense that you would think of that, Isla…"

"You're fair," said the doorknocker. "Be a judge."

"We bloody well don't need a judge," I interrupted. "I wanted to talk to Astraea from the start." And, turning to her, I asked her: "Do you mind? I have something…very important to tell you."

"Of course." She said.

After finding a quiet place where hopefully no one would care to look, I forced myself to begin. "You see…Astraea…we're friends…so I've decided to tell you…"

She smiled. "Come on, spit it out."

"My dad is Sirius Black and he's a mass murderer but actually he's innocent and my mum is dead and my real name is Isla Nigellus Black and yeah," I blurted.

"Sirius Black is innocent?" Astraea said, seeming to have lost me by the third part of my confession. "Are you helping him?" she asked, looking worried. "He could kill you!"

"Did you not fully register that? My dad never killed anyone. He's _innocent!_"

"That's what he wants you to think," Astraea replied, brows furrowed. "I don't see how you could trust someone who-who worked for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

Then, sudden understanding dawned on her face. "That's it…" a sneer manifested, a dark cloud upon her almost angelic visage. "You're just the same as Harvest! Either this was all an elaborate trick to spite me or you think that being spawn of a Death Eater is cool and you think that if you pretend to be one, I'll be impressed."

"No, no, it's all true! I swear!" I had felt sure Astraea, of all people, would understand.

"That's what they all say," she said snidely. "You and your Pureblood friends don't know what it's like to have lost your entire family- mother, father, little sister, twin brother-to the very people that you-you, Titiana-idolize! And to think I had thought the Sorting Hat was wrong about you! Gryffindor, my foot!" And with that, Astraea got up, turned her back on me with a muffled sob, and stormed off.

"Wait!" I cried, standing up, but she didn't even look back.

My legs were weak, yet there I stood, watching my best friend (Fred and George did not even enter my mind) walk away from me. Why would she think I was fooling her this entire time? What had I done wrong? I sat down, tears sliding down my face.

I stared down at my hands, lost in miserable thoughts, when I heard a footstep. I looked up and saw Harvest.

"It's alright," she said silkily. "I heard it all, and _I _believe you."

**A/N: *cue dramatic music* Thank Zenith for the first part of this chapter. But please don't hate on Astraea! She's been through a lot, even if she currently is steaming mad at Isla. At least someone can start calling Isla by her real name, even if it is Harvest. **


End file.
